


Anxious on Labor Day? Need to Hash it Out? Read On...

by MooneJune (SkyeStan)



Series: Craigslist AU [10]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, WASP Wards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 17:05:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4754246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyeStan/pseuds/MooneJune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye copes with her mounting anxieties. Family bonding ensues! A declaration is made. Christian gets another embarrassing nickname. What else are the holidays for? Happy AU SkyeWard week!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anxious on Labor Day? Need to Hash it Out? Read On...

“You’re so pregnant,” Grant says, with all the exuberant fondness of someone that doesn’t have to carry the damn baby around.  “Look at you! You’re so big!”

Skye groans as she pulls herself out of the car. “Exactly what every person wants to hear,” she says.

Grant steadies her with strong, soothing hands. “Skye,” he says. “You’re so beautiful.”

“I know,” Skye says. She flips her hair over her shoulder. Gives Grant’s her best bedroom eyes. “The baby just punched my cervix again.”

“No!” Grant chides. “Bad baby! Don’t hurt your mommy.”

Grant, naturally, has begun having full discussions with his unborn daughter. Which is why Skye has only referred to their unborn child as the “damn baby” once, out loud.

This, according to Grant, is the happiest he’s ever been.

And that’s great! Because it’s the happiest Skye’s ever been, too.

It’s also the most scared.

And the only time she’s ever carried a baby. As it turns out, that’s a lot of work. Even if Grant practically carries her everywhere.

He’s doting. He’s loving. He’s giving and kind and sweet.  And he’d probably do the jacket-puddle thing if the opportunity arose.

But she’s... stressed. Or frazzled. It’s more like frazzled. Exhausted. Nervous.

And she doesn’t want to seem like a bad person but.

But.

Grant’s always gotten whatever he wanted. He’s never had anything ripped away from him.

But she has.

So, so many times.

Enough times to feel like she should be doing more than this. That she should be working harder, or something.

She hasn’t been able to put in as many hours with a bun in the oven. So that sucks. And she can’t walk around as much. And Grant just wants to pick out nursery colors.

She just wants to know if it’s a package deal. Because Vanity Fair is nice and all, but she’s not so stupid to know that a Ward baby can be sold as a single.

Skye Ward doesn’t necessarily have to exist.

Does Grant know that? She’s not sure. She’s usually positive it’s all in her head. Usually.

He’s so good. This is the problem. He’s so good, and she’s so scared of being _not_ good.

She has no fucking clue how to be a mom.

How does she even approach that conversation?

She doesn’t know.

 

 

“Woah,” Thomas says, patting Skye’s bump as she gets into the house. “You grew. Like, in five days.”

“Wow, thanks,” Skye says. Mostly teasing.

“Well, I meant in-” Thomas gestures to his chest.

Grant smacks Thomas on the shoulder.

“What!” Thomas says. “Like you haven’t noticed.”

Skye pushes her boobs together. “They’re pretty nice,” she says.

“I appreciate them,” Thomas says. “From a strictly boobs standpoint.”

“Thanks,” Skye says. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

They stare at each other before bursting into giggles.

And that’s the thing.

That, she thinks, is the fucking thing.

She knows, in the pit of her stomach, in the back of her mind, in her very bones: She is loved.

That’s a new thing.

That’s a powerful thing.

She’s just not sure it’s enough. She’s not really sure love, the love she feels for Grant, or the love Grant feels for her, or the love they feel for Baby, is actually going to get them through life.

Like, Grant’s fucking loaded. So that makes up for a lot.

But she’s not. Not yet. And she lives in his apartment and she’s carrying his baby and she’s just not so sure she feels like-

A whole person.

Which is not the best way to be feeling before having a baby.

She’s a mess.

She’s such a mess.

She needs to hash this out.  Mess to mess.

“Hey,” Skye says. “Anyone seen Christian?”

Thomas shrugs. “Why?” he says. “Want to mention that line in Vanity Fair and watch him blow a gasket again?”

“Oh, God,” Grant says. “I legitimately thought he was going to have a heart attack.”

Skye smiles to herself. “Yeah,” she says. “Something like that.”

“He’s up in his old bedroom,” Thomas says. “The bathroom part. There’s a regetta in like, an hour, and he’s supposed to go-”

“And then everyone comes back here for drinks,” Skye says. “Naturally.”

“Naturally,” Grant and Thomas say, at once.

Skye wrinkles her nose. “You guys managed to sound exactly like your mother, by the way.”

“Gross,” Thomas says, sticking out his tongue.

“Please don’t ever say that,” Grant says. “I think I got a chill.”

“So touchy,” Skye says, brushing Grant’s shoulder.

He makes a face.

“Kiss?” Skye asks. 

Grant smiles broadly, and leans down to kiss her.

He’s gentle. So sweet. So soft.

And she feels like it was too needy to ask. Too much. 

“I love you,” she murmurs.

Grant tucks her hair behind her ear. “I love you more,” he says.

“Gross,” Skye says.

“Really gross,” Thomas says. “I’m right here.”

Skye licks at Grant’s lower lip, for emphasis.

Thomas replies with a noise of disgust.

“I’m gonna go see Christian,” Skye says. “Meet you in the sun room?”

“Lemonade?” Grant asks.

“Yes,” Skye says. “And Rosie!”

“Of course,” he says. “We’ll all be waiting.” He rubs her bump for good measure. Or good luck. Skye’s not quite sure which.

She tucks her hands under her bump.

“Careful on the stairs!” Grant says.

She always is. Careful. So, so careful with her body and her words. She never used to be.

Which is probably how she wound up pregnant to begin with.

 

 

Christian’s bedroom is on the third floor of the house.  And it’s exactly what she expected it to look like.  Clean. Blue. Like it hasn’t been used in 13 years.

She lets herself into the bathroom. “Why do you own so many pictures of boats?” she asks, as both an icebreaker and a legitimate question.

Christian jolts. Turns his head. “Who told you I was up here?”

“I mean,” Skye gestures to the pictures on the bathroom wall. “I didn’t even know there were so many kinds of boats. You must really love sailing.”

He sighs. “I hate sailing.”

Skye snickers. “So you didn’t decorate your own room.”

“Of course not,” Christian says. “That would show too much self-expression.”

“Ah,” Skye says.

He fixes his tie.  “Why are you up here, Skye?”

“Oh, you know,” she says. Anxiously rubs at her bump. “Just wanted to come hang out.”

“Skye.”

She lets out a huff. “Hypothetical scenario,” Skye says. “Anna’s pregnant.”

Christian whips around so fast that even Skye’s kind of shocked by it. “Anna’s pregnant?!”

“No!” Skye says. “No, stupid. Why would I-” She gestures. “I said hypothetical!”

“Well I wasn’t sure you knew what the word meant,” Christian says.

“First of all, screw you,” Skye says, poking him in the chest. “And second, what just went through your head?”

“I don’t know,” Christian says. “Shock, mostly.”

“Right,” Skye says. “Shock and-”

He stares at her. “And?”

“We you scared?”

Blinking. Blinking. Finding imaginary lint on his lapel. “No.”

“Liar,” Skye says. “You were terrified.”

“I’ve wanted nothing more than to have a baby with Anna for five years,” Christian says. “Why would I be scared?”

She swallows. “Because people like us-” She folds her hands on top of her stomach. “We don’t know what to do when we get what we want.”

Silence.

Christian looks down. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Skye repeats. “You get it.”

“It would be,” he runs a hand through his hair. “It would be so much. It will be so much, if it happens.”

“And that’s scary,” Skye says. “That’s just the pregnancy, and it’s scary.”

“And then actually raising a child,” Christian says. “I mean, Christ, I’m a mess, how in the world could I ever-”

“Have a kid and expect to do a good job?” Skye says.

“I don’t even know how to-” He motions with his hands. “Love things. I’m...”

“Messy.”

He shakes his head. “Cold.”

“Does it bother you that we’re like, really oddly similar?” Skye asks.

He cracks half a smile. “Sometimes.”

 

 

“But here’s the thing,” Skye says. “You’re a Ward. So if you have a Ward Baby, then you get to be in picture.”  She glances at her bump.  “I’m not important like that. This baby can exist without me.”

“She can’t,” Christian says.

“Yes she can,” Skye says. “Grant can take her to events, raise her, and it’ll be so glamorous because he’s just a wealthy single father and I’m-”

“Skye,” Christian says. “This baby literally can’t exist without you. You’re carrying her.”

She makes a face. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“But doesn’t it kind of apply?” Christian says. “Do you really think Grant just wants a baby? He didn’t go into a relationship with you looking for a kid.”

“I know,” Skye says. “But he’s so ready to be a dad. And I have no idea what I’m doing, and if I have this baby wrong-”

“She’s going to be fine,” Christian says. “Healthy and beautiful and perfect.”

“But mine,” Skye says. “And I mean, I read that article, and I was barely even mentioned. They talked legacy, and they talked babies, but not about me. It’s like-”

“You’re just there,” Christian says. “I know the feeling.”

“This whole thing,” Skye says. “Grant, the baby, the money-” She nibbles her lip. “It’s like a damn fairytale.”

“And that’s an issue,” Christian says.

“I don’t get fairytales,” Skye says. “And I don’t get rich husbands. And I don’t get to have a baby out of wedlock and get my picture in the magazines for it.”

“What do you get?” he asks.

She tilts her head up to look at him. “What do you?”

“Anxiety,” he says. “Pressure. Self-loathing.”

She picks at a cuticle. “So we’re the same, then.”

“We’re not,” Christian says. “You’re far more likable than I’ve ever been.”

“That’s not true,” she says.

“Of course it is,” he says. “You’re warm. You’re kind. You have all the potential to be incredible, Skye.”  He gently pats her arm. “You just need to know that it’s there.”

She... that’s... “Wow,” she says. “Um, thanks.”

“I want you to have a family,” he says. “I don’t-” He sighs. “I want you to be a part of our family. And it’s not a very nice place to be, I get that, but-”

She wraps Christian into a hug. “You’re so stupid,” she says. “God, Christian. You’re such a dummy.”

“Always with the pleasantries,” he says. “You’re a true wordsmith.”

“If they try to make me go,” Skye says. “Promise you’ll stand up for me.”

“Who is ‘they?’” Christian says. “My parents?”

“Yeah,” Skye says. “All of them. Don’t let them take Grant from me.”

Christian pulls her back by the shoulders. Holds her in place. “Skye,” he says. “You don’t seem like you’d ever give up without a fight.”

She sniffles. Smiles despite herself. “You know,” she says. “For a dummy, you’re usually right.”

“Incredible,” Christian says.

“You should skip the regatta,” Skye says. “Hang with us.”

“Can’t,” Christians says, grabbing Skye a tissue. “Anna’s uncles are in town.”

“Oh,” Skye says.

“You know,” Christian says. “You have your family, and that’s one set of problems. And then you have the family you marry into, and it’s a whole other set.”

Skye blows her nose.  “No family to begin with,” she says. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re not wrong for being stressed out,” Christian says. “I’m never not stressed, if it helps.”

“Yeah,” Skye says. “But if I get too stressed, then I’m putting-” She runs a hand along her stomach. “This little gal in danger.”

“You’re not putting her in danger,” Christian says. “You’re not dangerous, Skye. You’re a good person.”

“It’s barely been a year,” Skye says. “I haven’t even been with Grant for a year, and there’s all this stuff he doesn’t know, and if he finds out he could leave me and take the baby and-”

“Then tell him,” Christian says.

“I can’t,” Skye says.

“Why not?”

She doesn’t say anything at all.

“That bad?”

“I was living in a van when I met Grant,” Skye says. “What do you think?”

“That we’ve known a lot of rich people that do much, much worse,” Christian says. “Think about that.”

“Have you?” Skye says.

“Done worse than you?” he asks. “I don’t know what you did.”

“Guess,” Skye says.

“Skye,” Christian says. “I’ve never gotten to do much of anything.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Oh.”

“We have to stop having sad conversations in bathrooms,” Skye says.

Christian almost laughs. “You’re telling me.”

 

 

She manages to drag Christian downstairs for at least a few minutes.

“Look who I found!” she announces, practically shoving him into the loveseat. “He was hiding upstairs.”

“Christian!” Rose says. “I thought you were going to the regatta!”

“I am, sweetie,” he says.  “Just here for a few minutes.”

“Boo,” Rose says. “You should stay!”

“I can’t,” Christian says. “I’m sorry, Rosie.”

She frowns.

“Anna’s uncles are in town,” Skye says, taking the seat next to Grant.  He duly hands her a glass of lemonade and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Christian has other family to attend to.”

“Oh,” Rose says. “Oh, you mean those guys you don’t like?”

Christian flushes. “I like them just fine!”

“Yeah,” Thomas says. “They’re the ones that don’t like him!”

Skye almost laughs (Thomas sounds like he’s joking,) but notes the expression that crosses Christian’s face.  “Wait. Seriously?”

“Her parents like me fine,” Christian says. “That’s what really matters.”

“Who wouldn’t like you?” Rose asks, studying Christian’s expression. “You’re amazing!”

A soft smile. “Thank you, Rosie.”

“I mean it,” Rose says. “You’re the best.”

“Why don’t they like you?” Skye says. “I mean, you’re literally exactly what you’re supposed to be.”

“Right?” Thomas says. “Not liking Christian is like not liking toast.”

“Everyone loves toast,” Grant says.

“Toast is great!” Rosie says. “Especially with jam. Is Anna jam?”

“She is,” Christian says. “Anna is jam.”

“They should be nice to you,” Rose says. “Everyone should be nice to you.”

“I know, baby,” Christian says. “Especially my own brothers.”

Thomas gasps. “I’m an angel.”

“Wow,” Grant says. “I can’t even respond to that properly.”

“Me or Thomas?” Christian says.

“Either,” Grant says.

Rose puts a finger to her lips. “If Grant is blueberry jam and Skye is raspberry jam, then what’s the baby?”

“Wildberry,” Thomas says.

“Right!” Rosie says.

“Wait,” Christian says. “Why is Grant not also toast?”

“Because only you’re toast!” Rose says.

And she’s right. It makes sense, in a way.

“Well,” Christian says, kissing Rosie’s blonde head. “If you say so. You can be peach jam.”

“Okay!” she says. “Peach jam.”

“I should really go,” Christian says, with a sigh. “Duty calls.”

“Tell them to be nice to you!” Rosie says. “Or else!”

Skye bursts out laughing as confusion crosses Christian’s face. “Or else what, sweetie?”

“You’ll push them into the water!” Rose says, proudly.

Christian turns to Skye. “Did you do this?”

“Don’t look at me,” Skye says. “She’s right, though.”

“Right,” Christian says. “Anna will love that.”

“She’d think it was sexy,” Skye says. “Probably. I dunno what kind of weird things you two are interested in.”

Rose giggles.

“Really?” Christian says. “In front of my sister and my unborn niece?”

“Go to the regatta, toast,” Skye says.

“I hate your nicknames,” he says.

“But you love me,” she says.

“I love you!” Rose says. “I love Skye.”

“I love Skye more,” Grant teases, wrapping his arms around Skye’s shoulders.

“Nuh-uh!” Rose says.

“Yeah-huh!” Grant says.

Skye spares Christian a look. He gives her a small, understanding nod, and it’s perhaps the weirdest thing that’s ever happened between the two of them.

“See you after the regatta,” he says.

“Good luck!” Thomas says.

“Thanks so much,” Christian says.

“Anything for you,” Thomas says.

Christian manages an especially dramatic eye roll before leaving.

 

 

“Hey,” Grant whispers, nudging Skye’s nose with his neck. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Skye says. Mostly telling the truth. Because she does feel better. Really! Mostly. “All good.”

“You don’t usually run off to find Christian unless you’re stressed,” he says. “You can talk to me, if you want.”

She should. She should and she needs to but she’s scared. She’s not stressed. She’s fucking terrified. “Let’s go outside?”

“Sure,” Grant says. “I think we should talk, anyway.”

Her heart drops. “We should talk?”

“Yeah,” Grant says. “Is that... not okay?”

She shakes her head. “No it’s... it’s fine.”

“Okay,” he says. “If you’re sure.”

“Positive.”

“Skye and I are gonna step out for a sec,” Grant says. “Don’t burn the house down without us.”

“No promises,” Thomas says.

“None,” Rose agrees.

“Thanks guys,” Grant says. “We’ll be right back.”

Skye’s almost Thomas winks at Grant.

She has no idea why he’d do that.

Or why Christian nodded at her, unless they’re like, comrades now.

Everything is weird.

And she’s the weirdest of it all, probably.

“Can we go to the pond in the back?” Skye asks.

“That’s where I was headed,” he says. “Trust me. I think- I think you’re gonna want to hear what I have to say.”

She swallows. “Okay.”

 

 

He leads her to the pond with a sort of concern that makes her ache. He keeps his hand on her arm and keeps her steady. The old brick path that leads to the pond is kind of worn, and pretty easy to trip on.

So he watches her. And he’s warm, loving, perfect-

He’s a prince.

And she’s got no idea what she is. At all.

It feels like they haven’t been back here in a while. And they have, since the announcement, since the Fourth. But that seems eons away. Light years.

The baby’s growing. The flowers are changing. There’s two swans in the pond, now, and that’s probably an omen of some sort.

Which is stupid. Omens aren’t even a real thing. She’s not stuck in some sappy, romantic novel.

Right?

“Look!” Grant says. “She found a mate!”

Skye smiles. He says it so proudly. Like he and the swan are close friends.

Actually, knowing Grant, they could be.

“I’m so happy for her,” Grant says. “She deserves it. I bet she’ll have little signets in the spring! We can bring our baby and introduce her to all the baby swans!”

God. That sounds so sweet. Too sweet. Too perfect.

“Grant,” she says, taking a step ahead of him.  “I, um- We-”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says.

“We’ve been together for a really short time, actually, and-”

“I love you so much and I’m not doing this because you’re pregnant but-”

“There’s a lot of really shitty stuff I need to tell you-”

“Will you marry me?”

 

 

She almost falls over on a stray patch of roots.

He, of course, is quick to catch her.

“What?” she asks, out of breath, out of her mind, out of her body, probably. She’s hallucinating.

“What are you-” He stares. “What stuff are you talking about?”

“Did you just ask me to marry you?”

He nods. “Yeah,” he says. Blushing. He’s blushing. “I thought- You should- I’m sorry.”

She would say something, if she remembered how to speak.

“I-” He takes a step back. “I got nervous and I didn’t do it right.”

“Grant-”

He drops to one knee.

“Grant,” she repeats. “I wasn’t- You don’t have to-”

He takes her hand. “I want to.”

“I was- You barely know me and I got pregnant by accident and-”

“Do you not want to marry me?” Grant asks. And his expression is killing her. Like this is his fault. “It’s okay. That’s fine if you don’t, I thought- I want to but-”

“I do,” she says.  She wipes her thumb under her eyes. “Of course I want to marry you, Grant. Have you met you? You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “So what’s wrong?”

“Why do you love me?” Skye says. “Would we even still be together if I wasn’t pregnant? What if I have her and I’m a terrible mom and you just take her and leave me, and-”

He stands.

“No,” Skye says, softly. “No, no, I want to marry you, please-”

He wraps her into his arms.  “I love you because you’re brilliant,” he says. “Because you’re sweet and thoughtful and loving. You’re beautiful inside and out and I’ve never felt safer with anyone. And-” She takes in the feel of him. His muscles against her cheek. The way he smells. “And I think we were meant to be together.”

She blinks away her tears. “Meant to be together?”

“Yeah,” Grant says. “I’m sorry, that’s stupid, and my brothers would laugh at me but I’ve always thought that there was a One out there, and we’re soulmates, I think, I really do, and-”

She tilts her head up and kisses him. “Grant Ward,” she says. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” he says. “Will you marry me?”

She nods. “Yes,” she says, and her voice only cracks a little.

“Okay,” he says, and his voice cracks in solidarity. “Then we should get engaged.”

She laughs. “Okay.”

“I-” He pats his pants pocket. “I have a ring! It’s really nice and-” It’s in a silk box.  He has to let go of her to open it. Almost drops it.

She steadies his hands. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I already said yes.”

He smiles. “Yeah,” he says, lovestruck.  “You did.”

He opens the tiny box.

And she-

“Holy shit,” she says. “Grant, that’s-”

“Anna got Gramsy’s actual engagement ring,” Grant says. “And you didn’t seem like the traditional diamonds type, so Gramsy said I could have something else, and she said this one seemed like you and-”

It’s the largest sapphire she’s ever seen. “Grant,” she says. “How much is that worth?”

He shrugs. “I dunno,” he says. “Gramsy says she won it off Elizabeth Taylor in a game of poker.”

“Gramsy knew Elizabeth Taylor?” Skye asks.

“She says she did,” Grant says. “So, probably not.”

“It’s gorgeous. It’s-” Too expensive. She doesn’t deserve it. She- “Put it on my finger?”

He nods. Carefully slides the ring over her finger.

It’s heavy. Not figuratively. It’s literally the heaviest ring she’s ever worn.

It’s enormous. It’s outlandish.

“It’s blue,” Grant says. “And your name is Skye, so we thought-”

“It’s perfect,” she says, breathier than she meant to be.  “It’s perfect, Grant.”

He’s crying. He always cries when he’s happy. “I hoped it would be.”

She wraps her arms around his neck. 

And they kiss like it’s the most important thing they’ll ever do.

 


End file.
